I had started running on a track for exercise a few weeks before the Turkey Trot. I was running miles, you know, doing things that would make it seems as though I was motivated, as though I cared. Have you ever tried running miles on a 100-meter indoor track? It's 16 laps for one mile, and I was doing 3, 4, trying to do 5 miles. I was running it alone, no one to run with, no music, nothing to accompany me but the thoughts that ran through my head. To think that I wasn't actually that into it - I had no long term goals, no rivals to surpass, I wasn't intent on proving anything and I wasn't trying to live up to any dreams I had in the past - as I ran 64 laps at 9 minute mile pace... Some things never made sense to me.
I knew that 4 miles was nothing though, having once run 10 miles on the very same track. So, I was pushing my way up, slowly trying to build up some level of stamina that could even remotely compare to the level I had once been at. I stood on the track committed to running 5 miles. I went around and around... 2 miles, 2 miles and 8/16ths, 3 miles, 3 miles and 1, 3 miles and 2... 3 miles and 15/16ths... Right when I was about to finish my 4th mile, my leg exploded in pain and I collapsed to the ground... Eventually the pain from my leg cramp subsided, so, having no other option, I limped the 3/4 mile way back home. What the heck am I doing, running until I hurt myself, for no reason... Some things never made sense to me.
Well, that kept me out for a few days, but I returned after that. The only problem was that every time I ran after that, it was with the fear of getting another cramp. Not only did it, you know, hurt to get a cramp, but it would also keep me from running for a while, and with the Turkey Trot in only a couple weeks, that wouldn't be good. But with that fear there I couldn't do much training. I would run 2 miles and then feel my legs telling me that there was a chance that they might just randomly explode into pain at any moment now. It seemed that the more I trained, the quicker my legs would tire out, and I let that idea keep me off the track. I thought that maybe some workouts on an exercise bike would be worthwhile, but I never found the motivation to try that out, so I did nothing the week before the Turkey Trot.
The day of the race came, and I was still trying to set my goal time. During my training I thought sub-22 minutes? and I ran a 7 minute mile to test out that pace. Considering that I could barely do that 7 minute mile, there was no way that sub-22 was a reasonable goal for a 5K. All right all right I said, how about sub-25? And I thought about how I would do it. 9, 8, 7 minutes, and then 45 seconds for the last 200 meters or something? 9, 8, 7... That seemed like too much change of pace. It wasn't until 5 minutes before the start that I settled on 8:30, 8:30, 7:30, and all out sprint the last 200 meters and hope to break 25 minutes. I mean, I was running 9 minute miles for 4 miles in training, so 8:30 shouldn't be pushing it too much. And then I'll just, you know, go crazy and run 7:30 the 3rd mile.
The first mile went by with no problems. I looked at my watch to see 8:20. I was right on pace. I felt good, I was 10 seconds ahead of my goal, everything was good. I started to feel the pain the second mile. Somehow I held on to an 8:40 pace, so I was right at that 17 minute mark. I was like, All right all right, you've been saving up all your extra energy for this final mile, so it's time to bring it out. It's time to go for it!!! At which point I laughed, because I didn't have much left in me, but I sped up anyway. Partway through the third mile I could feel the threats of pain everywhere in my legs; my quads and calves on both legs were burning. At least I didn't have extra stamina that weakness in my legs was preventing me from using; I was out of breath too. I would stop for a couple seconds, realize it was helping me catch my breath but it wasn't helping my legs, and start going again. The only real thought I had was, well, I hope I cross the finish line...
"3 blocks to go!" someone standing on the side yelled, but I already knew that anyway. I started pushing myself. Someone was playing music and I got into it and started going even faster. I turned the corner and the goal was in sight. And I was flying. I was too tired to convince my legs to move faster and my legs were too sore for me to get them to push harder, but I pumped my arms. It must have been a sight to see. I pressed my eyes closed so hard as I pumped my arms that tears came out. I was going for it. It wasn't that I had run slow and saved up energy for a final sprint; I had run the whole rest of the race with everything I had. I was trying to find that final gear, press on with everything I had with the vague idea that maybe I could say it meant something, that somehow this was proof enough that the person I was was still alive, that I had the power to keep on going, to go on through anything, finding that strength to carry on no matter what, that willpower to keep on trying, no matter how hopeless..! And I laughed as I crossed the finish line in 26:30. It was so much effort for a 26:30 in a fun run.
As soon as I got out from in front of the finish line, I fell to the ground to rest. I was seeing hallucinations of my former coach saying, "Come on, don't lie down, you'll feel better if you stand up," and I got up. I took a gatorade bottle and then made my way back towards the finish line as I remembered I had to see the rest of my family finish. That was when it happened. My left calf exploded in pain. Whenever this happened I went to the ground and my leg jerked itself into a position that was a bit less painful, and I could stay like that and just sit there rubbing my muscle until my leg recovered enough to move again. That way, I didn't stand out as being in obvious pain as much. Well this time, my leg jerked itself into a position that made another muscle in my leg hurt, causing my leg to pull itself back the other way rapidly, causing my calf to feel that intense pain again and my leg to go the other way... All I can say is, it couldn't have looked very graceful. I probably looked like someone doing a poor imitation of a break dancer as I spun 180 degrees on the ground from the force of my leg spasming out. Somewhere along the way I scraped my right knee, which I can't understand because I only remember being on my butt with my left leg swinging around. I couldn't stop my open bottle from shaking violently and spilling, but I somehow kept it upright and managed to set it on the ground upright too. I found a position lying on my back where I wouldn't be forced to move my leg uncontrollably due to pain, and stayed like that. It surely had to be obvious that I was in some pain as I lay sprawled halfway blocking the sidewalk, muttering the occasional, "Owww..." while rubbing my leg with a half spilled drink bottle somewhere next to my head. I tried to at least get to a sitting position but it would make my leg hurt again, so I stayed lying on my back. It surely had to be obvious that I was in some pain. I mean, I didn't want a crowd around me, certainly not, but, you know, wouldn't it be safe to assume that some people would stop to ask if I was okay? I mean, wouldn't you expect someone to ask if the guy lying on the sidewalk in obvious pain if he was okay?
No one did. Not a single person said anything to me. 3000 people were signed up for the race. 3000 people! I was on the sidewalk near the finish line. People were passing me all the time. If they even saw me there, they didn't show that they did. I heard a lady tell her kid, "Watch out, it's wet there," as they walked past the place where I had spilled some of my drink. As they walked past me too. I was worried that I would have to hear a bunch of people going, "Hey are you all right? Are you okay?" as they streamed past, and I would have to keep answering, "Yeah I'm all right [not really, but there's not that much you can do for me]. I'll be okay." No one. I still find it strange, you know I thought this country was the one where people try and help others before they even know if the people they're helping need help. Well anyway, I was probably lying there for 8 minutes until my dad finished, saw me, and asked if I was all right. 15 minutes later, I was able to finally get up and hobble around. Still, no one took a second glance at the guy down on the sidewalk in obvious pain. I can't even say if anyone saw my failed attempt at break dancing as my leg spasmed like crazy, because if they did, they made no mention of it to me. Of course I can imagine some video cameras pointed at the finish line, and then turned in my direction as my leg went crazy. Great, I'll be an internet sensation for moving my legs like crazy, and it won't be for playing DDR. Am I supposed to use this incident and make a statement about American society?
It seems to have become part of the "American spirit" that, in an effort to "make things better," the best thing to do is to attack anyone who is wrong by popular opinion (or can be portrayed as being wrong strongly enough to encourage the general (and, at times, uninformed) public that this is the case), and to be a strong advocate for some arbitrarily chosen commonly stated viewpoints. However, perhaps as a result, people often do not do anything to help the people who are in obvious need of help when it is not easy to place blame on an individual or group, and when it is not in some way seen as a "cool" thing to do.Nah I'm just kidding. Still, I can't imagine...
A-nyway, back on the topic of running... I can't see it as worth it. I'm going to take this chance to say that I'm quitting running for good. My body obviously can't handle it. If it was just a problem of stamina, then maybe I could do it, but when you have to worry every step if your leg is going to explode in pain... It's just too much. So I can't see myself running another 5K again. Well, until the pi-mile in April, that is.
Haha, I remember hearing someone in middle school saying that running was the most brutal sport, because you knew that at the end of any training/session/event, without a shadow of a doubt, you would be in pain. Any other sport, you could get easier days and harder days, but with running, every day was the hardest day. That was basically the definition of the sport, because ultimately, running is about sheer output.
ReplyDeleteOn a strangely related note, have you ever played Katawa Shoujo (the VN)? Reading this entry reminded me of one of the routes (it centered on running). It's one of the oddest visual novels I've read, because aside from being written in English by Americans (and being free), it's probably the only game I've ever seen that actually motivated players to become better people (in fact, it even attracted professional attention, and one college professor ended up doing a study on the game and its effect on people).
Well, it'd probably be a bad training regimen if you never had any easy days, but for races, I always felt that if you weren't in pain when you finished you probably could've tried a lot harder and done a lot better. Of course those Olympians don't look like they're in that much pain after they finish their 13 minute 5Ks or whatever time they get. Man, I can't believe I try harder than them. Just kidding.
DeleteI've never heard of Katawa Shoujo before but I might have to look into it. Oh no, if this game encourages me to actually become a runner again I'm blaming you! You know, in the same way that I'm blaming you for making me find enjoyment in osu!mania lol.